


Breathing

by sainnis



Category: Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, The Legend of Zelda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-04
Updated: 2007-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainnis/pseuds/sainnis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Link thinks his journey is about to end, but Zelda has other ideas.  A what-if ending twist on Ocarina of Time for my original OTP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by nyagosstar. Written for the twicetoldfandom challenge on LJ.

 

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

His legs started to buckle, and he kept one hand pressed to his chest as he leaned heavily on his Sword. Craning his neck, he looked down at the wound across his ribs, gasping as blood poured through his fingertips.  
Link drew a ragged breath, feeling like the goddess’ own fool. Ganon was dead, but there was still dark magic working here.

The wound burned, and he stifled a cry. It was getting harder to stay upright, and he eased himself down onto the scarlet stones, his hands and wrists slick with blood. It was everywhere now, soaking the front of his tunic and running down his sides, sticky and hot. His fingers fumbled on his belt, leaving red fingerprints as he touched the empty bottles there. There wasn’t a fairy born that could survive the darkness of the Tower, and he’d given his last potion to the princess when he’d forced her down the stairs to safety. If he was honest with himself, though, it was unlikely that either would have done much good given the circumstances. There were some wounds that couldn’t be healed, and he knew this was one of them.

It started to rain softly as the fog began to lift. His limbs trembled as cold water drenched his skin, and he closed his eyes, hoping this wouldn’t last much longer. Heroes were supposed to die in one glorious instant, taking an arrow through the heart for their king or the like, not gasping on the ground, bleeding to death from a single cut. He never imagined his own death would take this long. The pain was something he could endure, but these last minutes of fleeting life had stripped away the remnants of his courage.

A hand suddenly touched his cheek, and he flinched, his breath catching in his throat. Opening his eyes, he struggled to focus on the face above him, even though he already knew who it was. She had haunted him for seven years in the Temple of Time; it was fitting she’d be here at the end.

“I’m dying, Princess,” he said, barely able to speak the words. He tried to take another breath, but coughed blood instead. Concentrating all his energy, he looked up at her, his voice shaking. “Please…take my Sword and kill me. Please.”

“I can’t,” she said, smoothing her hand over his hair gently. Though his blood was already seeping into her dress, her expression was calm as she gazed at him, and her apparent lack of fear only made his worse.

“Then I don’t,” he whispered, desperate now, “want you to watch me die.” The world was starting to pulse, shimmering with strange light.

He felt the pressure of her palms around his left hand as she spoke softly in his ear. “I’m not going to watch you die, because you’re not going to.”

As the light gave way to darkness, Link decided that in the end, it was better to hear a lie from her lips than the truth from anyone else’s.

***

He blinked, looking to his right, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. He shut his eyes again, a little disappointed but mostly too exhausted to care.

When he opened them some time later, his vision seemed to cooperate somewhat, and he realized he was staring at some kind of bookcase. No, it wasn’t simply a bookcase; the entire wall was covered with sagging shelves full to bursting with tomes of every size.

Strange, he thought. I never pictured death as a library.

Lifting his neck slightly, he caught a glimpse of his surroundings before his head started pounding and he fell back against his pillow. He let out a soft groan, squeezing his eyes shut. Everything hurts too much for me to be dead, he thought. It felt like every joint in his body had been pulled from the socket and roughly shoved back in place.

A single oil lamp cast murky light across his chamber, but he was certain he was alone. His bed was enormous, but it seemed small in comparison to the size of the room. Every wall was covered in bookshelves, except for two large windows barred with heavy brocade curtains. All things considered, he supposed, he’d woken up in worse places before, but certainly not in worse shape than he was right now.

He took an experimental breath and found something tight around his ribcage, making it difficult to breathe deeply. Touching his hand to his chest, he felt linen bandages. The wound beneath them ached fiercely, but somehow the bleeding had stopped.

One of the double doors on the far side of the chamber opened with a sudden creak, startling him. Any doubts he had about being alive were instantly quelled by the sharp pounding of his heart against his bandages. His left hand flexed under the blankets, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. It was the first time in as long as he could remember he didn’t have a weapon, and a rush of panic swept over him.

“Link?” A familiar voice spoke, followed by the sound of quickening footsteps. “You’re awake!”

He exhaled in relief that it was her, though the momentary surge in adrenaline still buzzed in his veins. Din, was he going to live the rest of his life like this, jumping at every sound? He tried to speak, but he was only able to croak out her name, his words turning to dust on his tongue.

The Princess ran into the circle of light thrown from the lamp, stopping abruptly at his bedside to gently take his face in her hands. “Gods, I was so worried! You’ve been asleep for three days.” Her palms were soft and cool against his skin, and he found himself hoping she’d never remove them. She stroked his forehead for a moment before pressing the back of her hand against it. “I think your fever’s almost gone.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, but his voice died in his throat as he started to cough violently, gasping for breath. His lungs contracted as he tried unsuccessfully to get any air, and his chest burned with the effort.

“Here now, drink this. Very slowly,” she said, putting a cup to his lips with one hand as the other supported the back of his head. “Just relax. It’s okay.”

He almost choked on the bitter potion, but after the first painful swallow, his body seemed to remember how to breathe again. After catching his breath for a moment, he drank the rest. Although it tasted like burnt embers, it felt pleasantly warm going down his throat and settled in his empty stomach without complaint.

“That should help a little.” She eased his head back onto the pillow, brushing his hair away from his forehead before pressing a light kiss there. “Just rest. You’re safe here.”

“Thank you,” he said, surprised by how rough his voice was. It felt like it had been years since he’d said anything at all. He gazed up into her pale face, framed by her unbound hair. She looked exhausted, and yet there was something almost luminous about her, as if the chamber had gotten brighter just by her appearance in it. Lifting his hand took more strength than he thought he had, but he reached out weakly to her, and she took it. “Is he gone?”

“He is, although he tried his best to take you along.” He studied her face as she spoke, unused to seeing it without disguise. It hardly seemed possible that they could be speaking like this in plain sight without any fear of attack. “I didn’t leave the Tower like you told me to. I couldn’t leave you, even if I couldn’t do anything else to help.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt. You’d done everything you could.”

“I ran back upstairs when everything got quiet, and that’s when I found you. I was afraid you were already dead.” Her voice was hushed.

“He only hit me once,” Link said quietly, matching her tone. “I couldn’t stop bleeding. I should have died.” He took a breath, but groaned when he forgot to keep it shallow. That was going to take some getting used to.

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “His blade was the opposite of your Sword. Its magic was designed to kill you. Does the wound still pain you?”

Link waved off her concern. “It’s nothing.”

She took a step closer, pulling back the edge of the blanket. “Let me see.” Her hands touched his chest gently, and he stopped breathing for a moment, closing his eyes to keep himself from watching her. He could sense faint warmth emanating from her palms, and he realized that she was using magic.

“When did you learn how to do that?”

“Seven years is a long time. I didn’t just learn how to play that cursed harp.” He winced, and she stopped whatever she was doing. “Am I hurting you?”

He opened one eye. She was, but he didn’t really mind. “No.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Fine. A little.”

The light pressure of her fingertips faded. “You still have healing to do, but you’ve come a long way. I made you a draught to help with the pain.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think,” he said slowly, trying to keep his breathing measured, “I need one.”

“He cut you open with a poisoned blade. My opinion of your bravery is not going to be threatened by a few herbs in a cup.” She picked up a bottle from the tray on the bedside table and uncorked it, gray smoke rising from its rim.

His mouth pressed into a frown. “It’s going to make me…weird.”

“You might get a little chatty, and possibly a bit tired, but you’ll be able to breathe.” A half-smile appeared on her lips. “I like you a lot better when you’re breathing.” She helped him lift his head again, and put the bottle to his lips. “If you start spouting nonsense, I promise I won’t listen to a word of it.”

It smelled like mint, but it tasted like sour apples. His stomach roiled for a moment, but it quickly quieted, for which he was immensely grateful.

Zelda put the bottle aside and sat in the overstuffed chair close to his bedside, settling herself. When he was sure his stomach wasn’t going to rebel, he turned to look at her. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Concern appeared on her face, making her appear older for a brief moment. “You don’t remember?”

“I remember bleeding to death, and then nothing until I woke up here, wherever we are.”

“We’re in what’s left of Hyrule Castle.”

Link closed his eyes for a moment, picturing the Castle as it had been. To him, it had been the first in a long series of places to break into, but for her, it was home, the last place she’d spent time with her father. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, taking the hand he offered to her. He rubbed his thumb gently against her wrist, feeling the faint pulse of her blood beneath the skin.

She looked at him, and then looked around at the chamber as she spoke. “This was my room, before everything changed. Impa used to sit here in this chair when I was a little girl, telling me stories when I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes she read to me, but other times I begged her to make them up.” She smiled at the memory, shaking her head. “I always wanted the stories to be more gruesome than she thought a princess should hear.”

“She looks like someone who would know some scary stories. No offense.”

Zelda smiled. “She would take that as a compliment.”

“I’ve never seen so many books in my life.” He laughed a little, surprised when it didn’t hurt. “When I first met you, I sort of figured you for a tapestry kind of girl. Or maybe ponies.”

“I don’t dislike tapestries, I suppose. And ponies are fine.” she said, curling her feet up beneath her in the chair. “But a good book, well, there’s no comparison. These are from all over Hyrule, and some of them are from generations ago. My father begged me to put them somewhere else, he said the dust would make me ill, but I never listened. There are even diaries in there from my ancestors, if you can believe it. Legends, poetry, history, lore from different tribes, even the fae—“ She stopped herself, looking sheepish. “I have a tendency to get carried away where books are concerned. Forgive me.”

He smiled, feeling the warmth of the draught working its way through his body. Every muscle felt looser, as if he was gently floating. “It’s okay,” he said. “I like listening to you. I always have.”

“You were always so quiet,” she said, leaning her head back on the chair. “I didn’t think so when we first met, but later, when I came to you as Sheik, you barely said a word. I was afraid the Temple had taken your voice.”

“It took me a long time to get used to it,” he admitted. “I kept expecting my own voice to come out of my mouth, and instead I sounded…like someone else.”

She nodded, looking away from him. “You went to sleep a child and woke up a man.”

“It wasn’t like sleep exactly. I think I knew that time was passing. I was,” he stopped, trying to put one of the most bizarre experiences of his life into words. “I was sort of outside of my own self. I wasn’t scared, because I really didn’t feel anything. When I came to, that was a different story, but what seemed so strange to me then feels completely normal now.”

“Funny how we both spent time as two different people.”

He realized their hands were still joined, but neither one had made an attempt to separate them. “How did you know where to find me?”

She pursed her lips before speaking. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, frankly. Rauru told me you’d be my age, but when I saw you, I had to stay hidden until I could get my composure back together.”

“Did you think I looked that different?”

“In a word, yes.” She sighed, waiting a beat. “I thought you were sweet when we first met. Fine, I thought you were cute. I was eleven. You wanted to help me; you were the only one who listened. The next time I see you, I’ve been in seclusion for seven years. As a boy, thank you very much. And there you are, larger than life, more handsome than any of the heroes from all my fairy tales, and you’re holding the one weapon that can save my kingdom.” She shook her head, blushing halfway up her ears. “Let’s just say I was impressed.”

He wasn’t sure what to say, so his herb-addled brain helpfully provided a brilliant response. “You were?”

She unfolded herself gracefully from her chair, leaning forward until their faces were nearly touching. “Can I ask you something?”

He breathed in, getting almost dizzy with her scent. “Anything.”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“I’ve been a little busy.”

Her lips suddenly pressed against his, and he felt her hand slip up behind his head. Gods, it felt like every good thing that had ever happened to him was happening at one time in that precise moment. His body was somewhere below him, but he was up here with the warmth and soft and heat and oh her tongue was in his mouth and he was pretty sure that his tongue was supposed to be in hers and breathing was so not necessary and oh how did people just not do this all the time?

She reluctantly pulled away, panting a little, and rested her forehead against his. “I have wanted to do that for so long.”

“Me too.” He was dimly aware of blood pounding in his ears, and he was quite certain it was loud enough for her to hear.

“Thank Gods.” She grinned at him, taking off her slippers one at a time and gracefully climbed off the chair and onto the bed. He sat up, woozy but determined, and opened his arms to her. She embraced him, and for a long time, he was only aware of the way his arms felt around her, and the rise and fall of her breath as they held one another. She was safe, finally, for the first time since he’d heard her name spoken.

“Before we say anything else, I need to tell you that I’m sorry,” she said softly, stroking the back of his head. “I need you to tell me that you forgive me for everything I asked you to do.”

“Why would I need to forgive you? You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

Zelda released him, sitting back to kneel beside him, all humor gone from her expression. “Please, just listen. You sacrificed your childhood, you gave up your home, nearly your own life, to save Hyrule, and for me to sit here and kiss you and act as if you haven’t lost everything…”

He leaned his head back against the wall, exhaling. “What kind of childhood did you have, exactly? Growing up here, watching it all fall apart? You were forced to run, become someone else. You gave up your home. You nearly gave up your life. Our story is exactly the same, except for one thing. You had a kingdom to think about, but it was much simpler for me.” Link looked at her, and said, “It was all for you.”

She blinked several times, and he was suddenly very aware that she was about to cry. He had never seen her do that before, and he felt his muscles tense, unsure what to do. “Damn it,” she said, brushing at her eyes roughly. “If you had any idea…I have felt so guilty for so long, and all this time, you never even resented me once.”

He beckoned her closer, and she curled up beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “To be fair, there was one time, when I was stuck inside Jabu-Jabu, and everything smelled like rotten fish…” He sighed. “Please. I couldn’t resent you if I tried. If you asked me to go do it all again, I would. I probably wouldn’t make it very far this time, since I don’t think I could walk out of this room right now, let alone get out of bed, but still.”

She exhaled, and he felt her breath against his skin, raising goosebumps on his flesh. “I have one more mildly uncomfortable question.”

“You seem to have a lot of those.”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the Ocarina, handing it to him. “When you’re stronger,” she said quietly, “Do you think you want to go back to your old time? You could, you know. And believe me, I would understand if you—“

“No,” he said, a little more sharply than he intended. “I mean, no thank you.” He set the Ocarina on the bedside table. “I like where I am right now.”

He felt her start to breathe again, unaware she’d been holding her breath at all. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

She threw her arm across his chest and held him tight, which did hurt quite a bit despite the medicine, but he’d be Thrice damned if he told her that. “I was so afraid you’d want to go. It’s not as if my old self wouldn’t be there with you, but I’d be alone here, and I would have to get used to not seeing you all over again, except this time you’d never come back.”

The pressure of her elbow jutting into his ribs finally made him wince, and she pulled away, apologizing. “It’s okay. Just help me lie down.”

He eased himself onto the pillows, settling himself onto his back as she smoothed the blankets over him. A wave of exhaustion swept over him, and he covered a yawn with his hand. “I can’t believe you’ve been sitting here for three days.”

She stretched out next to him, propping her head up with one hand. “Not so much sitting. I paced, I read, I checked to make sure you were still alive…there was a lot to do.”

“Have you even slept?” Just the mere mention of the word made him yawn again. He’d already had the chatty portion of the draught’s side effects, so he supposed the sleepy part was past due.

Frowning, she ticked the days off on her fingers. “It’s been a few days. Technically not since before the Tower. But you forget I was an honorary Sheikah. They can go for a week without rest. Also food, but I never got that good.”

His eyelids fluttered closed involuntarily, and he blinked, forcing them open. “I don’t want to fall asleep. I want to keep talking to you.”

“Close your eyes. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Zelda ran her fingers through his hair, leaning over to kiss his temple. “You need to sleep so you can get well. Good things will happen once you get better.”

He smiled as he started to drift off. He’d always been a very fast healer.


End file.
